


Dial Tone

by RokiRiot



Series: Leap of Faith [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, M/M, Past Character Death, Past Relationship(s), Spideypool if you squint, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24334351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RokiRiot/pseuds/RokiRiot
Summary: Peter has never had good timing.
Relationships: Harry Osborn/Peter Parker, Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Series: Leap of Faith [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756810
Comments: 2
Kudos: 30





	Dial Tone

**Author's Note:**

> THIS IS A TRAGEDY. NOTHING GOOD HAPPENS. Read at your own discretion. I do not own anything Marvel/MCU.

**Voice Message 01**

It had been going so well. So well, Peter thought. But good things like that tended to go awry as soon as they got _too_ good.

The phone rings all the way through. The queue for him to leave a message rings loud in his ears. Peter doesn't know what to say, but he tries anyway. 

_"Harry... I... I know you won't believe anything I have to say to you, but I want you to know... that I'm sorry. That I love you. That I have loved you for a long time. Please call me back."_

It's pitiful, but Peter feels it. He wants Harry to feel it, at least a little. At least enough to call him back. They had broken up a month ago ( _a month?_ Fuck, Peter is so lost.)

Norman Osborn had died a month ago. Harry Osborn had discovered Spider-Man's identity one month ago. Harry Osborn had seen Peter Parker standing over the body of his own father, each donned in ridiculous suits that did nothing to dim the suffocating atmosphere one month ago. 

Peter could see the betrayal in Harry's eyes. He hadn't told Harry he was Spider-Man after a year and a half living together, and three years of sharing almost everything with one another. He hadn't told Harry about Norman as the Green Goblin, knowing their already turbulent familial relationship would be on the rocks. 

Peter wished, for once, just _once_ that luck would cut him some slack. He had been fighting GG for a little more than five years. Why had Norman decided to pull out all the stops _now,_ when Peter was ready to let his secret out to one of the people he loved most in the world? 

Peter put his phone away and curled into his couch. It had been a tough month. The break up, the funeral, applying for summer courses at NYU, his paid internship at Oscorp (which he didn't know if he still had...) It was all putting him through the ringer, but nothing was worse than wondering what Harry planned to do now that he knew Peter was Spider-Man. 

Nothing was worse than wondering if Harry wanted nothing to do with him, now that he knew. 

\--

**Voice Message 02**

"Hey, DP?"

"Yes, shnookums," Deadpool sing-songs, busting a cap in the knee of the last man standing. Peter had missed him, but it was all well and good since he could trust Deadpool to have his back. He really needs to focus on being more aware. Harry’s absence is taking a lot out of him. 

"I need to make a call real fast... Mind watching my back for a bit," Spider-Man asks, pointing to where he's going to be just a wags off. Deadpool does a twirl, brandishing his glock in the faces of his enemies. They tremble where they're webbed together. 

"Sure thing, Spidey-Pie. Come back soon! We'll miss you," he waves Peter away, pulling a barely white handkerchief from another dimension to use as a prop.

Peter shakes his head, flipping away to stand on a building a ways off. 

_The person you have dialed..._

_"Hey, Harry... I know you don't want to talk. I'm not... I don't want to ruin your healing process, I just... I wanted to make sure you're okay. It's been getting pretty crazy out here with..._

_Anyway, please be careful. I know you hate people watching over you but those guards can keep you safe. Please call me if you can... I love you."_

"Oooh, Webs, are you talking to your giiiirlfriend," Deadpool croons by his ear. He swivels, noticing the cops and paramedics have arrived. Deadpool bounces on the heel of his feet, humming the saxophone part of 'Take Five' by David Brubeck. Peter smiles wryly, sadness twisting his mouth to something uncomfortable. 

"How much did you hear," Spider-Man asks patiently, because he loves Harry, and he also loves Deadpool, and he doesn't want to have to keep one safe from the other. Peter doesn't ask Deadpool to give up being a mercenary, but he will protect the people he has to. 

"Just the part about guards and love," Deadpool swoons, then to the air just next to his right ear, "Of course I won't ask him _that,_ we want Spidey to trust us!"

"Boyfriend," Peter says, because he _does_ trust Deadpool, just not with certain things.

"Oh- huh..? Y-your booooyfriend," Deadpool jests, even though his mask expresses his bewilderment. Peter shifts uncomfortably. 

"Well... My ex," he admits, eyeing Deadpool seriously, "You don't have a problem with that, right? I thought you were Pan or something? Didn't you tell me you were in love with the physical embodiment of death?" Peter is nervously rambling. Deadpool had hit on him many a time, and though Peter really liked him (really liked him), he had figured out Wade wouldn't give him a chance. Perhaps because of age difference, perhaps because of Wade's mental issues, perhaps a million little reasons. 

"Ah nah, baby boy! Don't worry bout it! Love who you love," Deadpool says, but there's a nervous energy there that Peter doesn't like. _"ALTHOUGH_ I gotta say, Spides, Webs, baby, calling your ex to tell them you love them..."

Peter knows Wade is just looking out for him. It sort of drains the emotional energy from him. His shoulders slump down. "I know... It's complicated."

Deadpool understands, like he _always_ understands and moves in closer. "Come on, babe. Let's get some lunch. My treat."

"Yeah, okay," Peter says, even though he can't think about eating. He turns and bends his knees a bit, and Deadpool climbs onto his back like he's his child. His very overgrown child.

"It's just," Peter starts as he sends them careening through the air with a sharp _thwip!_ "I don't want him to forget that someone loves him." He doesn't say that Harry's like Deadpool in that respect. He doesn't say that even though they have good things going for them, they don't have the _right_ things going for them. Peter wants to make it easier by at least being one right thing. 

And he'd fucked even that up. 

Deadpool's thighs flex to squeeze his waist in a way that would have had Peter instantly hard if he weren't still wallowing about his ex. "You don't have to splain nothing to me, Sweet Cheeks. Love who ya love."

"... Thanks, DP."

\--

**Voice Message 03**

It's a hard day, and Peter doesn't know what to do but lie down with a picture of himself and his ex and a fucked up plushie Deadpool had given him. He stares at the photo of them, on a wilful vacation somewhere Harry had suggested. They'd taken Norman's private jet because Harry knew he'd need it that week. 

That had been the happiest week of Peter's life. It was the moment he'd decided that he'd become a renowned scientist, marry Harry, and tell him he was Spider-Man. Not in that order. They wore matching floral shirts because Peter was a giant dork. 

Peter picks up the phone, curling into his plush bed. Parts of it still smell like Osborn- his favorite pillow, the parts he'd lie on after sweating it out inside Peter. Peter shivers. Now's not the time to be thinking dirty. 

He's lonely. 

_Please leave a message after the..._

_"Do you know how I know you still love me? You left the plants with me. So you trust me enough not to kill them all off. Deborah has started sprouting buds just now. She'll be a full orchid come winter._

_... You could have fired me from my internship, or have me thrown out of our apartment. You could have stopped paying the other half, just like that._

_I know I betrayed your trust by not telling you who I was, Harry... but it's not for the reason you think. And I would never **never** hurt anyone who you even had one ounce of love for. I know you don't trust me right now, but... _

_Please talk to me. **Please** call me. I love you and I miss you and even if I never make this right, I want you to know everything."_

He closes the phone, staring at their shared picture. They have plenty more on the fridge, but this one always makes him feel the best. It's his only hope. 

\--

**Voice Message 04**

Peter can't stop crying. He's bawling, making himself sick, puking just shy of his toilet bowl. His knees land in it, ruining his suit. He cries more over the throne. Hot bile burns the back of his throat. 

His side stings from where the bomb had detonated too close. He's already mostly stitched back together, skin now mostly regenerated from where it had splattered across buildings. 

Peter retches until his body gives up, then runs cold water from his tub over his head and cheeks. He can't think, everything hurts. Sounds are too loud. He can't stop crying. 

Peter shuffles with dirty, wobbly knees out of the bathroom to find his phone. He hasn't been taking it out with him anymore, because people can track these things, but fuck if he doesn't need it now. He presses the familiar button for a speed dial.

_The number-..._

_"Harry... Tell me that wasn't you, man. I don't want to fight you, tell me-..."_

He covers his mouth, his sobs wracking his body. He holds the phone away until he can talk again. 

_"I know what you think, but I would never kill your father. **Think** about it, Harry, **please**... Don't make me fight you. I can't... Not you... I love you."_

He closes the phone before he can say anything more incriminating. He wraps himself in the blanket Gwen had given them for the couch. It didn't smell like his and Harry's shared scent anymore, but it was a familiar comfort. 

Dirty and broken, he curls himself away from the world and cries.

\--

**Voice Message 05**

_"This is Harry Osborn. You just missed me..."_

_"I know it's fucked up for me to call you after we just got finished beating each other up,"_ Peter laughs wetly, _"But I just wanted to tell you that this doesn't change anything. I still love you, no matter how much you want to kill me._

_I wish you would speak to me, even if it's while we're exchanging blows... I love you, Hare."_

Peter had promised himself he wouldn't take his phone out when he was patrolling. He had hoped his last desperate messages would have found a way to Harry's heart. 

No such luck. Peter cradled his broken arm against his chest, hoping against hope that none of the news helicopters will fly over the building he's hiding atop. He knows how thirsty they can be, and can't manage to get himself away right now.

"Hey Spidey-babe," Wade surprises Peter so hard he cracks his head against the ledge of the roof. "How's it crawling?"

"Deadpool? How did you... I mean, _why_ are you here," Peter asks, but it's not that he wants Deadpool to go. It's that he _needs_ someone right now, and he _loves_ Wade, and this combination won't be good for him. For either of them.

"Well, I saw you fighting on the televisión, and you didn't look too fuego, so I figured I could make a run and pick you up. Take you out for a chimichanga or two. Or we could totally just sit around here and reveal our Tragic Backstories TM and..." He's rambling. The type of rambling Peter knows is reserved for excitement and nervous tension and (scarcely) fear. Peter laughs, but it ends with a hacking cough. Deadpool's expressive mask pinches in worry. The small whites of his eyes twinkle from the city light. The only time Peter thinks those lights look nice, and not like intrusive pollution.

"Hey, baby boy, you don't look so hot.."

Broke a rib... Two? And my arm. And my ankle," Peter replies, "Not feeling too hot, tell you the truth."

"Alright, babe, let me take you out of here," Wade's voice is gentle, so much gentler than any other time, and Peter can't help the tears that start pooling in his lenses at it.

"Don't be so nice to me," Peter replies, "I'm going to ruin it. I want to stay near you and I _will_ ruin you."

Deadpool slides his arms under Peter and across his back, and his body is so _large_ in comparison. Peter feels like a little child, curled against his biceps and using his shoulder as a head rest. 

"Ruin me all you like, Sweetie Spidey. I'll keep coming back. I'm a glutton for punishment."

So was Peter, he thought with a frail sob.

\-- 

**Voice message 06**

_"Harry, please tell me you're not--..!"_

"Oh God, oh God, please... _Please_ not again. Not you, Harry." Peter doesn't know where to put his hands. Tears are pooling in the eyes of his mask, making it impossible to see. He pulls it off, flings it away as if it's stopping him from breathing. 

Harry sputters, a cavity blown out of his chest making it hard for him to breathe. Peter wants to apply pressure, but the wound is too big. He mutters something. Peter can't hear him properly. He pulls off his mask and leans closer. 

"Don't look," Harry gasps, as Peter lays eyes on his face. It's obvious something has gone wrong. Sores and cysts, bubbling yellow and green shift over Harry's skin. Peter thinks about how strange Harry had been acting before their break up. He doesn't care. 

"I don't care about that! I just want you to live," Peter says, pressing his fingers to Harry's pulse, though he knows what he'll find. It's weak. Harry gurgles at him

"Please baby, please no. Don't speak, just... Someone will be here to help us soon, just hang on for me." He doesn't know if that's true or not. He doesn't want to move Harry. Shock can kill someone if they're not careful, and swinging around Manhattan with a baseball sized hole in your chest wasn't the best idea. 

"You really..." Peter shakes his head but Harry continues, "My father, you really..."

"I didn't kill him, Harry, I swear on my _life._ He found out my identity. He thought if he used you, he could lure me to the tower and kill me, but I was... I dodged a projectile and it hit him instead. If I knew... If I _knew,_ Harry..."

"You were... right," Harry coughs, "Still... Still love you... Just don't trust you."

"Don't talk," Peter cries, kisses his cheeks, his face, knows how scared he must really be, "Please, let me save you."

"Can't... save everyone, Pete."

"Not everyone! Just you, please, just you," Peter cries, begs, knows it's no use. Harry's eyes are no longer speaking to him, no longer begging him, no longer with him.

Peter stays with his body until it's physically unsafe for him to do so. 

\--

Right next to Uncle Ben's, Harry's funeral is the hardest thing Peter's ever done. And he doesn't really _do_ anything, just sits beside his aunt and cries.

They let Peter have Harry's phone and a few momentos Peter hadn't noticed he'd taken. Not that it makes a difference. There's not much in there, except a few pictures and videos of Peter being a dork or Harry flirting with him. 

Peter fiddles around with it, and goes through the voicemails. There's only one new message, the one Peter had left the night Harry died. The rest are...

Peter feels weak. He listens to his own voice beg Harry over and over. He listens as he gives Harry space instead of running after him with all his might. 

Peter feels weak.


End file.
